High Meadow, page 12
“Sounds good to me,” Wolff agrees and looks pointedly at his partner.
“Fine.”
Less than a gracious agreement, but it’ll have to do.
It takes Fletch and Sully twenty minutes to put the drone together, by which time the rest of us have packed up camp. We all head up the ridge where Sully launches the Matrice 210 RTK.
At first everyone tries to crowd around Sully, who is holding the controller with the small screen, until I tell all but James to give him some space. Having grown up here, James knows the area better than anyone.
I catch Schroeder walking off and trying his satellite phone again, but like I told him yesterday, he’s not likely to get a signal with this thick cloud cover. We’re lucky it stayed dry.
“Are we that close to Fisher River?” I hear Sully ask, pointing at something on the screen.
“That’s not Fisher,” James corrects him. “I think that’s Swamp Creek. Hang on.” He pulls a map from his pack and folds it open. “Yup. Swamp Creek. See where it sharply turns west?”
He’s just showing Sully the map when I approach.
“What’ve you got?”
“Looks like we’re less than a mile from Swamp Creek.”
The creek branches off Fisher about twenty-five miles north of High Meadow’s east property line. The river slightly curves toward the highway, and finally flows underneath at the bridge just south of the ranch. Swamp Creek runs a similar path, except west of the river until it suddenly curves toward US-2. It runs parallel to the highway for maybe a couple of miles, and then dips under to the other side, only to reconnect with Fisher River south of the bridge.
By my calculation, we’re only about ten or so miles from the northern edge of the ranch. Still a ways from the house, the ranch is just under sixteen hundred acres in total but only a couple of hundred of those are being actively used, but closer than I thought.
“Here. Look at this.”
Sully holds up the small screen and points at what looks like part of an old forestry road.
“Where does that run?” Schroeder—who’s crowding me from behind—wants to know.
James checks the map.
“Nothing showing on the map.”
“It’s definitely a trail,” Sully notes.
The two parallel tracks appear to follow along the creek, but only for a small section when it curves under the cover of the trees. For the next fifteen minutes Sully tries to find where it leads or where it originates, without any luck, before he needs to turn the drone back or the battery will run out mid-flight.
“Maybe we’ll have better luck pulling up satellite imaging. Should be easier to spot,” Wolff suggests.
If we leave now and aim straight for the trail where we left the trucks, we can be home mid-afternoon.
“Sounds like a plan. Let’s head back.”
Then maybe I can see what Alex is up to tonight.
Alex
* * *
This has turned out to be a huge job.
I take off my work gloves and rub my sweaty palms on my jeans while stretching my back.
Lucy walks up, her arms full of lengths of rusted rebar. We discovered a pile hidden by overgrown underbrush.
“This is the last of the rebar,” she says, tossing her load on the substantial pile of junk we’ve been accumulating.
“I’m starting to think one truck won’t cut it,” I observe. “Any guess what this might weigh?”
“That’s a math question.” Lucy groans as she does her own version of a back stretch. “You know me and math don’t get along.”
The company sending out a truck on Monday charges based on weight, and I’m afraid this cleanup project is going to cost a shitload more than just a sore back and aching muscles.
I do a mental review of the state of our financial reserves, which have already been dinged hard by the purchase of the new truck. At this rate, those house renovations I was hoping to start this summer will have to wait another year.
The one bit of good news was the phone call I received earlier today from a dude ranch along the Kootenay River, close to Ripley, which is about half an hour from here. Sam Deere, the owner, is a friend of James and Ama and mentioned I came highly recommended.
One of his horses was attacked by a mountain lion last week and although the horse got off with relatively minor injuries, the animal was seriously spooked. Sam admitted that normally he’d simply get rid of the horse, but it’s his teenage daughter’s favorite.
I agreed to drive up there Monday afternoon to have a look.
After a very slow startup, it looks like we have a bit of business coming in. Good. We need it.
“I’m gonna check on the dogs, get cleaned up, and get dinner started,” Lucy announces.
We left Scout and Chief safely inside. Too risky for them to roam around back here. At least until this pile is gone.
“I won’t be far behind you. I’m just going to do a quick walk around the area we tackled today for anything we may have missed.”
It was Hugh who suggested yesterday it would be easier to do the cleanup in sections to avoid missing stuff. He did a lot of work, ended up lugging some of the big junk from the attic, and helped me move the dresser to my bedroom.
He offered to come back Sunday—tomorrow—but Lucy told him we had it handled. Hardly, but I get she doesn’t want to send the guy the wrong message.
Every step hurts, but I drag my ass back into the woods. Just a quick walk-through, making sure we got all the junk out before we move to the next section tomorrow. I don’t think we’ll get this entire woodlot cleared by Monday, but we’ll get most of it.
I still don’t get why someone would turn their own backyard into a dump, but you see it all over the place. Not sure if it’s laziness or lack of care. Personally, I get a little stabby when I see a property surrounded by rusted out cars, old furniture, building materials, and God knows what else.
I’m about to turn back when my foot catches on something and I land face-first in the undergrowth. A sharp pain stabbing my knee has me cry out.
Damn. That’s my bad knee too.
Before I have a chance to catch my breath, I’m suddenly grabbed under my arms from behind. Panicked I reach out for the first thing my hand encounters as I’m hauled to my feet.
Jonas is barely able to avoid the arc of the empty paint can I’m wielding as I swing it around. The movement landing me right back on my ass on the ground.
“Christ, Alex…don’t take my fucking head off,” he grumbles.
Then he reaches down to grab my hand, tossing the rusty can aside before pulling me up.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
I bend down to rub my knee, twisting my neck so I can look up at him.
“Same,” he says. “Lucy pointed me here when I saw you hit the deck. For a second there I though you got shot.”
“I tripped. I think on that damn paint can.”
He shakes his head and grins. “Don’t think I know anyone as accident prone as you are.”
“I’m not,” I protest.
Jonas clearly doesn’t buy it, cocking an eyebrow.
“Could’a fooled me. I’m gonna have to stock up on ice packs with you around.”
I decide to ignore the comment. Mainly because he has a point. Apparently, I’ve become an accident waiting for a place to happen.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask, tentatively putting some weight on that leg. “Aren’t you supposed to be out searching?”
He bends down to grab the paint can, slips his other arm around my waist, and starts walking us out of the trees.
“Got back early.”
“Did you find them?”
I hiss at the strain on my knee and he tightens his hold on me.
“We found some evidence that caused us to call off the search.”
“Like what?”
He tosses the can with the rest of the garbage as we make our way to the house.
“A tripwire attached to a bomb.”
“A bomb?” I stop in my tracks and turn to face him. “Up there?” I indicate the mountains behind us. “Why?”
“Sweets, if I knew that we’d be a hell of a lot farther along,” he comments with a sardonic chuckle. “As it is, I left my guys with a federal agent foaming at the mouth at my office back at the ranch because I was this close to putting a bullet between his eyes. Dan and his poor mother just moved into the cabin this afternoon, wondering what the hell they’ve gotten themselves into. Tomorrow Homeland Security is showing up. And while all this is going on, I somehow have to figure out a way to get Phantom to Elk River, Idaho by nine o’clock Monday morning.”
I heard everything he said but am stuck on one thing.
“Homeland Security?”
He sighs as he helps me up the porch steps.
“Long story.”
I stop him with a hand on his chest before he can open the door.
“Jonas? Why are you here?”
He covers my hand with his and leans down so his nose is almost touching mine. This close up, I notice the fatigue around his eyes and tension in the lines around his mouth.
“Because I needed this.”
He takes my lips in a sweet, languid kiss, slowly crowding out every twinge, ache, and pain in my body.
“That’s a really good reason,” I tell him when he ends the kiss.
“It is. Your mouth is the only thing standing between me and a capital murder charge,” he jokes.
I lightly punch his shoulder.
“That’s not funny.”
“Wasn’t meant to be.”
I lean back a little and glance up at him. The fatigue is still there but his mouth is relaxed, slightly tilted up at the corners, and his eyes are warm.
“Can you stay for dinner? Lucy is making coq au vin. You can tell me all about your day,” I suggest lightheartedly.
“No clue what you’re offering me for dinner, but if it tastes anything like what I can smell even out here, I’m game.”
I grin up at him. “A fancy title for chicken stew, but it’s soaked in wine, served over mashed potatoes, and Lucy makes lots.”
He smiles back. “Sold.”
It’s close to nine when I walk Jonas out on the porch.
“Come here,” he mumbles, pulling me into his arms.
I could get used to this. He smells of soap and horse and I feel completely at home in his embrace, like I used to when Bruce would return home and sweep me up in his arms.
Not that they’re anything alike, other than perhaps their height. Bruce had been all lean lines and hard muscle. Jonas is fit and strong but bulkier, and age has softened the edges with a hint of padding. It’s like being hugged by a bear—soft and powerful at the same time.
He told us about the mine they found and how it might have been part of a cache of arms stolen from a military armory. That’s why they’d decided to call in Homeland Security. I shiver when I think what damage that thing could’ve inflicted, and I’m glad they didn’t push to go after them by themselves.
“You cold?” he mutters in my neck.
“No. Just grateful no one got hurt.”
He sets me back and brushes my lips lightly. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Been carrying my gun everywhere.”
“Keep your eyes open at all times and if you see something off, call right away. It looks like these guys could be a lot closer than we thought.”
Another shiver runs down my spine.
“I will. We’ll keep the dogs with us tomorrow. They’ll alert if anyone comes close.”
“Good. Depending on what happens tomorrow, maybe Tuesday I can bring Sugar over and we can take a ride around your property.”
“I’d like that.”
He tucks me close again, resting his chin on top of my head.
“Good. Cause I’d really like to have you to myself at some point.”
This time the shiver skirting over my skin is one of anticipation.
Fifteen
Jonas
* * *
“You’re fucking welcome!”
Fletch flips the bird, as the three nondescript black Escalades leave a trail of dust speeding down the driveway toward the road.
“Fucking bastards,” he adds, voicing what the rest of us are thinking.
Almost four hours ago, those same SUVs had come rolling up to the house like the cavalry arriving. I noticed Schroeder blanch when a rotund man around my age stepped out of one of them.
I understood why when the man introduced himself as an FBI Executive Assistant Director. He’s their boss. The other four men were DHS and from the moment the ranking agent—a mousy-looking guy with the unfortunate last name Limpkin—opened his mouth, it was clear the DHS was not happy with our involvement.
In fact, over the next hours we were being grilled as if we were somehow involved with either the armory heist, the disappearance of the prisoners, or both. They seemed suspicious of our knowledge of weaponry, weren’t satisfied when I explained we were ex-special forces, and then scoffed when I wouldn’t elaborate on any specific missions we’d been involved in.
Finally they asked to search the house and premises, something I told them they could do as soon as they showed me a warrant, which didn’t earn me any friends.
When they left, they specifically instructed me to stick close to home in case they thought of something else to ask me.
More of a fuck you than a thank you for your assistance.
That’s fine, this is why I had Schroeder sign a contract, for which we’ve already received the substantial deposit. If they try to back out of paying the remainder, they have another thing coming. I have a few friends in high places I’ve never had to call on yet, but wouldn’t hesitate to if my hand was forced.
“Fuck,” I mutter as we walk back to the house. “Now how am I gonna get Phantom to Elk River?”
“I’ll do it,” Sully volunteers. “That is if we can switch trucks so I can tow the trailer.”
“Yeah. That’s not a problem, thanks. Dad’s gonna want to go, though.”
Sully grins. “Got no problem with that. Maybe the old man’s got some more interesting stories he’s willing to share with me.”
Oh shit.
Last weekend Dad was invited to play poker—he was tickled pink—and the guys plied him with bourbon and got him to spill a few stories dating back to my teenage years. That’s all I need, more ammo for Bo and Sully to torture me with.
“Don’t get him drunk again,” I warn him.
Dad looked miserable for a few days after that little escapade.
“I’m just kidding. I do prefer driving tonight as opposed to getting up at three tomorrow morning.”
“Fine by me. Check to see if that works for my father.”
Sully heads inside. I’m not sure where the others went but I’m left alone on the porch. James probably already left for home. We normally keep Sunday for family unless we have an active case. I’m not sure what the hell Bo does with his spare time, but I don’t see his wheels around anymore either. Fletch is probably in his cabin sulking, the moody bastard.
That basically leaves me to fend for myself. Unless…
She answers on the second ring.
“Hey.”
I can hear the smile in her voice. Feels damn good to know I have the same impact on her as she does on me. I was already smiling before she even answered.
“What are your plans for tonight?”
“Tonight?” she echoes.
“Yeah. The house is empty. I know I already told you what a shit cook I am, but I can grill steaks and I’m sure we’ve got plenty of makings for salad. Maybe even some baking potatoes.”
It’s silent for a beat before she comes back with, “I can handle those.”
“Perfect. Come whenever you’re ready.”
“Did you know that?”
I’m leaning over Sully’s shoulder, who has a satellite image pulled up on the screen. The same one we’d studied yesterday afternoon when we got back.
“What am I looking at?”
He points at a slightly darker line in all the green.
“That’s Swamp Creek.” Next, he indicates a red marker. “That’s where we found the trip wire. And there is Fisher River. Now focus on the triangle of land bordered by the river, the creek, and the highway.”
He pans out, hits a key, and the red flag disappears but a grid of white lines superimposes over the map.
“Property lines,” I conclude, recognizing the elongated shape of the ranch, which follows the flow of Fisher River on the southeast side. “That’s High Meadow.”
“Yeah, but look here.”
He points to a section where the creek meets US-2.
A smaller, wedge-shaped parcel of land is marked off. Wide on the west side where it starts at the highway, but narrowing to the east. The creek runs along the north side of the property line.
I know where that is.
“That’s the rescue. Alex’s place.”
The point of the wedge of land stretches much farther into the mountains than I expected.
“Right. Now watch this.”
Sully hits a key and the red marker appears back on the screen, way too close to the tip of the rescue’s boundaries.
“That was no hunter,” I mumble under my breath.
Sully swings around. “What?”
“Last week when Alex went for a ride, her horse got spooked by a loud gunshot. She says she noticed movement up on a ridge before she heard it. Thought it might have been a hunter wandering onto her land.”
He turns back to the screen and asks, “Whereabouts was it?”
“I have no clue,” I grudgingly admit.
I should’ve taken it more seriously and asked her. Dammit.
“We’re supposed to take a ride around her property this week, she can show me then. Could you send me a set of coordinates based on those boundary lines?”
